


It's Going to Be an Early Spring

by Thassalia



Category: Westing Game - Ellen Raskin
Genre: Gen, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 16:23:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thassalia/pseuds/Thassalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Next steps often arrive without warning. And they often arrive in suits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Going to Be an Early Spring

**Author's Note:**

  * For [busaikko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/busaikko/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide! These characters belong exclusively to Ellen Raskin and her estate, but I've loved them for a long time. I hope this little story does them credit, as this book has influenced my life and my writing immensely.

She had her first beer at 16, the same weekend she won her first debate that counted in any way beyond a personal victory (those counted, sure, everything counts, and everything costs, but once she discovered that you could debate with points the whole world shifted). Her school had never been competitive until this past year, when Turtle stumbled into debate and gave her partner someone to really work with. This win was particularly sweet. The other team had lost by an unprecedented number of points, including clobbering a debater, Todd Axelrod, who she found particularly odious. Todd had small, warty little eyes, and spoke through his nose and when he went up against Turtle, he refused to look at her. Plus, Todd and his partner almost always one upped them on points. Not this time. The win was worthy of celebration. 

Turtle didn’t really go to parties, but it seemed fitting to go with her partner and it was better than going home to an empty house. Even Angela was out tonight, studying with a friend. So when Carl Waronawski had said, “Hey Tabby, why don’t you come with us to this shindig. We can run you home after,” she looked at him, considered the shin-bruising he really deserved for "Tabby," decided that would be childish if desperately satisfying, and instead shrugged and said, “Sure.”

They were an hour away from home in a suburb of Milwaukee debating at one of the big schools, and someone would have had to take her home anyway, so she figured a stop along the way would be good for...everything. Everyone. It was better than taking the bus back with the coach and the speech people. They tended to sing on the bus. She felt elated, jangling up on a bull market high from the win and she just didn’t want a night of normal. She really didn't want a night of showtunes and bus seats.

She had on an old suit of Angela’s that fit a little wrong-big in the chest and hips, too long in the thigh, but it felt comforting, grownup. She could do business in this suit, wage war, fail up. Sure, Angela had mostly gone to bridal showers and luncheons and lady things in the suit, but it was Turtle’s now, and it had just won her a place in Wisconsin High School Forensics history. She freaking loved this suit.

Carl looked her up and down, then glanced at Thomas and Mindy, the second string team - good, but not as good as she was. She gave Carl a little mental consideration. Okay, as good as they were. It was a team effort, and Carl talked like a speed demon. Plus, he was kind of cute, she had to admit - shaggy hair that was a nice shade of brown. blue eyes, a crooked nose. A little short, but so was she. It helped her win. Boys didn't expect short girls to stand that tall, and talk that big. Certainly not boys in their brothers suits, who talked too fast (just fast enough). The last time she and Carl had gone up against Todd, he'd taken the (very narrow) loss badly. "What's the point of you debating," he'd said. "I want to go to law school. Girls don't go to law school."

That was so patently foolish that Turtle didn't even have a response. "I'm going to law school," she said, dismissively, although she was angry at how plain dumb Todd was. "But even if I didn't, I'm still better than you."

This week she'd proved it, leaving Todd Axelrod speechless too weeks in a row. As her dad would say, "So damned satisfying."

“Do you, uh, have other clothes?” Carl sounded dubious.

She shook her head. “Do you?”

He hiked his backpack up higher on his shoulder. “I’ve got a sweater in here, some other shoes.”

“I’m not going in this,” Mindy piped up. “I can’t wait to take off this stupid suit.” She said it like there was something wrong with her clothes, and by extension, Turtle’s. 

Turtle glanced down at her outfit. It was still an amazing feeling, an amazing suit. She wondered why Todd never got mad at Mindy. Maybe it was the difference between wanting to strut in the suit, and rip it off.

“No,” she said, “I’m good.”

The party was in a big house that looked like it was waiting to star in a teen comedy, the kind she rarely got to go see because she didn't like to go the movies by herself and when she went with friends they still mostly saw kid movies - cartoons and dumb comedies, but then most of the big houses in the suburbs looked like they belonged in movies. All the lights were on and cars were parked up and down the block. Carl had shed his blazer and tie, pulled a sweater over his button down shirt. It was brisk out, not cold enough to snow, but chilly. Turtle liked to see her breath in the air, and she didn’t mind being a little cold. The ground was damp with the melting snow, and the sidewalks looked slick and glistening but they were just wet.

Carl and Thomas walked ahead of the girls, not really waiting for them. They had to walk a few blocks, there were so many cars parked on the street, and Mindy kept asking her questions. short and breathless.

“So you’re going to Madison,” she said. “You’re so smart, I thought you’d go somewhere else.”

Madison was somewhere else, Turtle thought, but she just shrugged.

“I didn’t want to go too far away.”

She still didn’t have her driver’s license. She didn’t know how to drive. Between school and debate and visiting Sandy, she just hadn’t had time. Neither had her parents - her dad was at the capital half the week, and Turtle was plenty happy to have her mom at the restaurant. Working made her way happier than staying home and bugging Turtle and Angela ever had. 

“I heard you could have gone anywhere.”

“I wanted to go to Madison.”

That was true. But Sandy had said he’d pay for college and beyond if she stayed close enough to visit. Truthfully, he’d said he’d pay for it anywhere, but she knew that it made him happy to have her close by. It was a trade she was willing to make. She didn’t want him to have to travel far.

Mindy didn’t seem to have a follow up.

“Aren’t you taking Mr. Nelson’s Calculus section?”

“Yep, I’m in the A/B section.” Her dad had insisted that she take that instead of the higher level. It was cool, she didn’t think she was going to do much higher level math anyway, but it was good to know it.

Mindy blew on her hands. They were almost at the house. Carl and Thomas were walking up a driveway. “It’s weird,” she said finally. “You’re younger than I am and in higher math. I’m no dummy.”

Turtle sighed. Maybe this had been a bad idea. “You’re right,” she said. “It’s pretty weird.”

Someone had handed everyone a beer when they walked in. There was a cover - $1 for college kids, $2 for high school kids. “That’s pretty smart,” she said to Carl, “They probably cost more to clean up after.” 

He looked at her like she was crazy. Too bad. He was still cute.

“Nice suit,” the kid at the door in a thin t-shirt and jeans had said, and handed her back $3.

“Thanks,” she said.

It wasn’t like no one had ever offered her a beer before but she’d never really been anywhere that made her want to drink one. The smell, the idea of the smell, had always put her off, but she was going to college in a few months. She thought it was time to get used to it. Sure, she’d had sips here and there, but never a full beer.

After the first few swallows, the taste got better. Still thin, and a little weirdly bitter, but drinkable. She’d had worse.

"Drink up," said Carl. 

"I'm trying," said Turtle.

"Do you drink?" he asked, liked it had finally occurred to him that she was two years younger, and maybe that made a world of difference.

"I am now."

Carl got a funny look on his face.

"So, besides debate, what do you do?"

Turtle thought about it. There were so many answers, but it seemed like too much effort to answer Carl. He was pretty smart, and he talked really well, but she didn't know if he'd understand. Besides, secrets were secrets and she truly relished hers. "I play a lot of chess."

Carl's eyes got a little glassy as he finished his drink.

"I'm going to go get another."

Turtle waited for awhile, but Carl didn't come back and the others had disappeared into the crowd. The noise was steady and pervasive, as thickly soupy as the crowds of people spilling on top of each other, voices raised to layer on top of the next so that no one could really hear unless they were close enough to kiss.

She drank more of the plastic cup of beer. She’d thought a little about kissing Carl, particularly today when he pulled out the defense they’d had in reserve and really nailed the closing. In that moment, she’d really, really thought about kissing Carl, imagined how his mouth might feel, what that kiss might be like. It was taking the king, sacrificing the queen and she couldn't understand how anyone could dismiss chess and love debate. It was chess with words, and that win was giddy. She still hadn't beaten Sandy at chess, but she loved to tell him about her weekend victories. Winning felt like those fourth of July firecrackers, bright and sparking and elaborately delightful, like an inventively wrapped present that proved as good as it's ribbons and fancy bows. She and Carl, they’d won all season. If they lived somewhere else, in another district, they might even go on to the national tournament. Bigger victories dangled elusively, but there was always college. She’d take the win. And the thought of a kiss. It didn't look like Carl was coming back though.

Someone bumped into her, knocking her elbow and the beer sloshed onto her shoes. Shit, these were Angela’s, and unlike the suit, her sister might want the shoes back. Turtle hadn’t exactly asked her sister to borrow the outfit. Angela had mid-terms, and Turtle hadn’t wanted to bother her older sister. Plus, there’d been the chance Angela might say no after the last pair of shoes that had come back ill-used (was it Turtle’s fault there’d been mud in the parking light in Wisconsin in early spring? Hardly!)

“Sorry,” the voice said, and Turtle looked up to see the same kid who’d let them in at the door. Carl and Thomas were nowhere to be seen. “Sorry about your suit.”

“It’s okay,” Turtle said. “But now I smell like beer.”

“There’s a bathroom upstairs,” the kid said. He had a nice smile. “Just don’t tell anyone. You can wash it off.”

“How do you know that?”

“My house,” he said.

“You’re charging people to come to a party at your house?” She kind of liked the idea.

“People mess stuff up, and I don’t get that much allowance,” the boy said.

“Okay,” she said, and pointed out. “Stairs?”

The bathroom was very girlish - pink everything, and the toilet seat was pink and puffy, as were the towels. It seemed weird to have the little pink washcloths smell like beer, but it seemed better than bringing the suit home smelling like that. She was pretty sure Angela wouldn’t say anything, but there was always a chance that one of her folks would actually be home before she was and it wasn’t like she’d asked permission to not come straight home.

Turtle was reluctant to go back downstairs. It was fine, for a party, but people were too close together, and it was really loud. Still, she was going to try to figure out this beer and party thing, so she started down the stairs.

Halfway up she met the kid.

“I’m Billy,” he said. He had another beer in his hand which he gave to her. "Sorry about earlier."

“Turtle,” she said. "And it's okay. It's just my sister's suit."

He blinked. It was kind of cute. His eyes were very brown, kind of a spring mud color. "Turtle?"

“It’s a nickname. My real name is terrible.”

“Williams Everett Arbuthnot III,” he said. He had to yell it a little, but even so he leaned in close to her ear. He was warm and smelled a little like beer.

“Williams?” She turned her face towards his ear, and he grimaced at her outrage on his behalf.

“I know. It’s so bad.”

She knew tit for tat. “Tabitha Ruth.”

“Like a Baby Ruth?”

She scrunched her face. “You win,” he said, again with his breath so warm on her cheek and his hand around his drink practically nudging into hers.

“So what’s up with the suit, Tabitha Ruth?”

She turned her face again, and this close, she could see the way that his cheek was a little stubbled, just lightly, and smooth, with a small pimple near his jaw, and a curve of ear. He had really nice ears.

“We had a tournament today. We won. This is my winning suit.”

Billy smiled and his cheek dimpled. She thought it might be nice to press her lips against his cheek, right where that dimple was. 

“Congratulations. Sounds like a lucky suit.”

“I don’t need luck,” she said. “But I like this suit.”

Billy laughed, and drank a big slug of his beer and moved in closer. “You’re something Tabitha Ruth, Baby Ruth.”

She took a big drink of her own beer. She’d given up on the idea of kissing Carl. It had probably been the rush of the win. But she still thought kissing someone might be a good idea. And Turtle had learned not to wait around for what she wanted. Billy was maybe a little drunk, but he was cute, and he smelled pretty good and he'd let her use a clean bathroom. She thought that was probably a really nice thing.

“Would you like to kiss me?” she said. Sure, things didn’t really work that way in the movies, but she didn’t really think most things worked like they did in the movies.

“Okay,” Billy said, only acting a little surprised, and covering it quickly. He leaned in. She was on the step above him, close to his height with the raised step and it was so easy to lean towards his angle. His lips were warm, a little rough. He smelled like beer, and tasted a little like it, and she liked the pressure against her mouth, even when he touched her lips with his tongue. She opened her mouth, just a bit. She wasn’t sure how much would be too much, but the pressure increased and that seemed good. She didn’t want to close her eyes, but it happened anyway and she felt him press his hand against her arm, the cup still there so it pressed against her bicep.

She leaned in a little more, angling her head, careful with her drink, and enjoyed the heat she felt creep through her, the balanced delicacy of their movements, and just when that heat started to feel like time to close to a fireplace, Billy moved his head back.

“That was nice,” he said, voice low, scratchy. “Really nice. Do you want to go upstairs?”

“No,” she said, because beer, and a kiss, and a victory was enough for one weekend. “that’s okay. But thanks. Do you have a phone?”

It was only about half an hour later when Angela showed up in her car. Turtle had found Mindy, told her she didn’t need a ride home. She waited outside for a few minutes on the porch, enjoying her breath in the air, still a little overheated, and enjoying the contrast.

But it was dark, and much colder now, and she was glad to get into the warm car. Angela had on mittens and a hat, and looked much prettier than she used to. Before. She also looked tired, but in a good way. Eyes too close to the books, and late nights. The car smelled like coffee and Angela’s shampoo. 

“Thanks,” Turtle said. “I know it was a long way. I didn’t want to go home by myself. I'm glad you were home.”

“It’s okay, “Angela said, in the way that Turtle knew meant she was genuinely pleased. “I came home early. Besides, I’ll miss you when you go to college. I’m glad to spend time with you now.”

“I had a big day,” Turtle said. “I drank a beer. I kissed a boy. Plus, we won. Again. Undefeated.”

Angela laughed, bright and rich, warmer than the heater, filling Turtle up with something bigger than herself, all the love she had for her sister. The kiss was nice. She thought there'd be more in the future, but here with the heater and the dark, and Angela happy and newly herself, Turtle was as happy as she knew how to be.

“Tell me all about it,” Angela said, and drove them home carefully through the damp, spring night.

**Author's Note:**

> Yuletide is always a wonderful, and horrible challenge - take beloved characters and expand on their story. Having read this book so many times since I was a child, I realized that I didn't have any big stories to tell. All of the answers have always been there for me. So this is really such a small story, a small gift. A moment. But revisiting Ellen Raskin and Turtle once again was a huge gift to me. I feel like I got the present this year!


End file.
